


You Know You’re My Saving Grace

by mangochi



Series: Almost Human Prompts [1]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Wee bit of angst, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:02:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Fill: John looks at Dorian like he looks at Anna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know You’re My Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: As for prompt, oh my... so many of them!!! But to start... Last night a post on Tumblr made me realize that Michael Ealy is in Beyonce's "Halo" vid... (http://youtu.be/bnVUHWCynig) ..that man is something, I tell you. And I started fantasizing about a version in which Beyonce isn't Beyonce but John (now, that didn't come out as I was hoping XD ).  
> So, I would really like to read somehting very romantic inspired by that vid. In other words, a fic in which John looks at Dorian like he's looking at Anna in the first scenes of ep. 1 and Dorian's thoughts about it.
> 
> Ahhh, so fluffy I can’t stand it. Hope I did it some justice!

John sleeps on his stomach more often than not, arms folded beneath his pillow and cheek pressed deep into the linen. His mouth’s fallen slightly open in slumber, quiet snores rasping as he exhales, and Dorian finds the line of drool trailing from the corner of his parted lips to be far more endearing than it probably should be.

He shifts slightly closer on the bed, clasping his hands loosely across his stomach to refrain from touching the other man. Dorian doesn’t sleep, not in the usual sense, and John’s given him free rein over the apartment while he snatches every spare hour of sleep he can grab, but he always finds himself inevitably lying on his back over the covers, ankles crossed at the end of the bed and head turned sideways to face John.

The alarm begins to ring, and Dorian blocks its signals easily with a simple override code. It’s their day off, a fact John seems to have forgotten, and there’s a small selfish urge within him to watch John sleep a little longer.

John frowns and grumbles in his throat, the sheets shifting as he adjusts his position, and his wiggling brings him an inch closer to Dorian. The android can sense his body heat through his thermal sensors, a tantalizing warmth barely a fingertip’s distance away, but he can’t bring himself to move. John was so...soft, so breakable, and the man would chew off his head if he ever knew of these thoughts, but Dorian has already programmed him so deeply into his own coding that he doesn’t know any better. Every thought begins with John. Every thought ends with his bourbon smile and drawling voice. And if Dorian has it his way, John’s eyes would be the last thing he ever thinks of.

They’re amazing eyes, really. Eyes that see through human deceit so clearly, eyes that are still completely blind to their own worth. Those eyes are flickering now behind closed eyelids, John struggling to wake through heavy layers of unconsciousness.

Dorian doesn’t breathe, but he holds his breath anyway when the first glimmer of hazel peers through dark lashes and fix on his face. A ray of early morning sunlight catches the color just right, green and brown and gold and colors Dorian doesn’t know the names of. A sleepy smile unexpectedly crosses John’s face, and Dorian can only stare in dumbfounded silence as John’s smile widens, his face softening in ways Dorian’s never seen before. Something’s buzzing in his circuitry, shaking the very core of him, and it begins and ends with John.

Then something changes, the smile dropping so swiftly that Dorian begins to doubt he’s ever seen it.

Confusion sweeps across John’s face first, a glimmer of fear and chilled recognition, and Dorian wonders who it is that John’s seeing in him.

“Dorian…?” The whisper is faint, shaking, and Dorian offers a small smile in return.

“John.”

John pauses, then exhales in a long, weary sigh. Dorian sets his jaw, a mild sense of disappointment rolling in him, and he begins to look away, turning his face towards the ceiling. Then a hand closes over his cheek, warm fingertips brushing warily over unmarred synthetic skin.

Dorian blinks; John’s palm covers his left eye and what he can see of the other man’s face is unfamiliar to him. There’s softness there again, there’s relief, there’s a layer of regret that Dorian isn’t completely sure is actually there.

“Dorian,” John says again quietly, and his hand trails down the length of Dorian’s face, leaving a lingering warmth behind as he cups Dorian’s chin loosely in sleep-slack fingers. Fingers that are still slightly shaking, Dorian is unable to keep from noticing.

His sensors are going haywire, so he cancels them absently and really looks at John. Looks at him with nothing but visual input and finds him to be beautiful.

“Thank God,” John mumbles suddenly, eyes closing again, and his hand drops heavily on Dorian’s chest, holding him in place. Dorian doesn’t have the words to question him, and he revels in the contact. John rarely touches him like this, so freely and without thought. He suspects it’s due to the early hour, but it _means_ something to him and so he holds still as John traces unconscious circles over his chest with his thumb.

Never before has Dorian been so conflicted about his lack of a heartbeat.

“John,” he says softly at length, when the man seems in danger of dropping off again.

“Shuddup,” John slurs. “G’back to sleep.”

 _I can’t_ , Dorian wonders if he should say.

He doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Will take more oneshot prompts in comments :)  
> EDIT: so I've got about 4 now and that's about all I can do in a week or so, so I'll open for more prompts when these are done! Watch the space under prompt fics for openings!


End file.
